Fashionista….not me…

 I am not one. My mother was one and was always sewing. She wore out three or four sewing machines in my lifetime. It was her passion, along with cooking. She usually made outfits for everyday wear, but could certainly sew anything on which she decided. She loved to sew pant suits to wear. She made them for both of us. She would make dresses for the two of us out of the same fabric. She taught me how to sew. When I got to be a teen, all I wanted was jeans and tee shirts, so she let me wear that. But, whenever she could, she would sew up a dress and put me in it!
She loved to dress up. She always wore her beautiful brown hair short and curled. She didn’t wear makeup, except lipstick. Her olive complexion allowed her to wear an outrageously bright shade of orange lipstick. So she did! Orange was her favorite color anyway.
I asked her why orange one time and she just said she didn’t know why, it just was. In May, after we buried her in April, I found one pair of orange sneakers at the store. Just the cheap lace ups I always used to wear. Only one pair in orange and they were my size. I bought them and wore them all summer. I know why orange was her favorite color now.
I always take off work on my birthday. A few years ago, I was off and prowling around resale shops. I found a McCall’s magazine with Natalie Wood on the cover. She was wearing orange with an orange backdrop. The issue was July 1965. The month and year I was born. Needless to say, the magazine now hangs in a frame on the wall. It was a “birthday card” from my mother. Yes, I call it supernatural and not coincidence. It was her reaching out to touch me.
But, about fashion, she may be why I struggle so with what to wear. My friends may not think so. They always love my outfits. They get tickled at me because most of my clothes come from Goodwill or a cheap consignment store or a church resale shop near my home. I avoid having to pay full price for anything. I do buy all my shoes and undies new and spend good money for them. I try to have a coupon or find something on sale.
When I was little, double knit was the wonder fabric. My mother loved it. No ironing, easy to sew, easy to fit. Every color, pattern, texture. If I could find it in any real selection of colors and textures, I would probably buy up a big pile and try to sew my own clothes, too.
But, the reasons my mother caused me problems clothes shopping are these: she often shopped from the catalogs. You remember when three certain stores sent two inch thick catalogs in the mail twice a year and a few smaller ones seasonally? She could find something she liked for each one of us and buy one in every color. We only went to the store to shop when I needed a new coat or some shoes. I didn’t have any experience shopping for clothes off the rack. I had to make myself learn some skills. I prefer the resale type shops, though. If I find something there, it is one of a kind on the rack. If I find myself at a retail store looking at things, I want to buy one of every color! In fact, I did that a couple of years ago buying tee shirts. I bought a half dozen at once. Thank goodness they were only five bucks each!
Another obstacle she inadvertently created was by the following comment: “We can make this cheaper than that price.” And she could. She could get a pattern and fabric and notions and in two or three hours have a new outfit of better quality and fit at half the cost or less. I cannot do that. I can sew. I can sew well. But, it creates anxiety for me. I don’t get the outfit completed. These days, the pattern, fabric and notions far exceed the price of most ready made things anyway. If I am not going to enjoy the process, why should I try to do it? One of those “should want tos” I have had to overcome.
But, I do love to dress up, too. My work place has limitations on what I can wear. I don’t have to wear a uniform, but there is a very strict dress code. That leaves the evenings and weekends. My activities require rugged outdoor wear for fishing, hunting, cattle handling and such. Not much room for glamour. I have a closet full of clothes that I don’t get to wear very often. I kept trying to make myself get rid of them. I don’t think I will, though. Rather, I will wear them anyway. Who says I can’t slip into a favorite dress to sit on the porch and write or go to the kitchen to stir up supper? The one I am wearing now walked me along Waikiki and the streets of Honolulu.
Mother implied through example and dressing me that one should complement ones fellow man by looking as well turned out as possible. There have been many times I failed on this task. I intend to keep trying. I passed some of this on to my daughter. We have a common thought about a commercial on television. The young woman is upset because the wind blows up her skirt on wash day or something and she isn’t wearing cute undies. Pam and I said to each other: if you always own and wear only cute undies, there is never an issue! So Mother, I guess I did okay with her. Even though she wouldn’t wear the little pile of summer dresses you made for her second birthday, she wears the cutest outfits all the time now and she loves to sew! I would rather you had been here all these years helping me raise her and her brother. But, I know you reach out to me often and show me things I need to know. Even when I don’t know it is you showing me.

From the back porch, where every day is Mother’s Day,

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Relics

Several, as in twenty plus, years ago, I found a book that extolled the virtues of simplicity and clutter free living. For twenty plus years, I have been trying to reach a point where I feel my life is simple and clutter free.
My problem has often been sentimentalism and indecision and not knowing when I will get there. “There” being some indefinable place in time and reality.
With both my parents and his parents and all our grandparents passed on, we have the leftover trinkets, photos, furniture and even my parents’ home to manage. I have pared down a great deal. But, my problem is that some of the things I have inherited are not necessarily useful or my style. Mind you, there are no antiques even, just old stuff. I will get things that are more my style and then get rid of them in a de-clutter session because it is easier than dealing with getting rid of the objects that remind me of our ancestors. The objects are not holy relics to me, just simple reminders. Some things are truly wonderful pieces that I do treasure and would grieve should they be lost. A piece of pottery, a conch shell, copper ash trays, an ostrich egg to name a few.  So maybe there are some holy relics in the pile now that I list them in print.
Still, sometimes, I want to box up everything I own and toss it out the door. I want to be able to start over with everything, partly because some things do cause so much anxiety. The real issue is more comical and human. I read books and blog articles about people who live with two pairs of pants and four shirts, have a bed and a table with one chair and some floor pillows. Of course, I am exaggerating, but not too much. I think I should do whatever I read about. If it is in a book it must be true…..like the notion that everything on the internet has to be true! Human foibles. Of course, I don’t believe those notions, but it still creates a conflict in my mind because I am not content with the way things are and am seeking a better way.
I recall living in California when the children were infants. My house was very simple. We did have more furniture than described on the bloggers’ pages as mentioned above, but only the barest basics. I had few artifacts and only a handful of clothes. I could clean my entire home, front to back in a few hours. Dusting, polishing, mopping every surface. Even when we came back to Texas, there were a few years with very little to deal with. Then things continued to accumulate even with my tossing things out regularly. People passing away; their things often falling to me to disposition.
I think most observers would consider my home to be uncluttered. It is usually fairly tidy and as clean as I can manage with him and two medium size dogs who love to roll in the dirt or mud outside and then come in and roll all over the rugs and floor. (Thank goodness for a tile floor!)
I am not sure where the unease comes from. Perhaps, it is leftover anxiety from grief. I have not regained balance completely. On one hand, knowing the objects don’t matter and on the other hand, letting the objects remind me of my loved ones. Then, again, many of the things I still have are just my style. If I were to go on a treasure hunt to decorate my home, they are the kinds of things I would seek. So, in the end, my ancestors’ treasures have become mine. Not just relics, but my own signature of style.
I have three treasure tables and a bookcase of books, dolls and trinkets. Here is one of my treasure tables. Some of the things I have purchased for myself, others are “holy relics”.

 

From around the world and down through the years, trinkets and relics.  Catching light, catching dust, pouring out memory, pouring out identity.  Telling stories and keeping secrets.   I wonder what my children and grandchildren will do with each of you.  Will they hear the stories I tell about the loved one from whose hands it passed?  Will they feel a connection with the ages of simple living and loving of those who lived and loved enough to bring us into this world?  I believe they will.  I must believe they will.  For in their memories and stories dwells my immortality and my legend.